


A Different Kind of Strength; A Different Kind of Club

by bob2ff



Series: Miracles Hijinks [19]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Humor, Introspection, Teikou Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 15:58:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1988988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bob2ff/pseuds/bob2ff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nijimura doesn’t even know how it all happened, when his troublesome kohai started worming their way into his heart. Set in Teikou-era.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Different Kind of Strength; A Different Kind of Club

**Author's Note:**

> Written for BPS' Challenge 80 (Over the Rainbow).

As captain of Teikou boy’s basketball team, Nijimura had one overarching priority, and one priority alone: ensure Teikou’s win. “Only the strong survive,” after all. There was no space for weakness. No space for friendship, beyond the limited friendship required for teamwork, in order to be strong together, and to ensure no one encroached on that domination at the top.

The coaches all understood that Nijimura understood that. That was why he had been appointed captain, even as more senior players, the third-years, whispered and gave dirty looks at him, when it was first announced. He didn’t really care. Teikou wasn’t a buddy-buddy kind of club. It was the kind of club that survived. It was the kind of club that won. Whispers and dirty looks were harmless, as long as everyone could still deign to work together to clinch Teikou’s constant, abiding victory.

“First string.” The announcement of first sting always evoked a lot of interest. These were the new generation of players to which Teikou’s illustrious name was entrusted to. These were the new generation of predators.

Nijimura could not be more disinterested, and restless. He tapped his foot impatiently, lips twisting in a scowl despite himself. Even though he usually took his responsibilities as captain as an utmost priority, things outside basketball were creeping into his mind, distracting him, today.

His father had been looking unusually pale that morning, but had insisted on still going to work. He was being unusually stubborn on not going to the hospital for a checkup. Nijimura had to figure out a way to force him to go. He was just as stubborn as his father, if not more so.

The names droned on, then Nijimura blinked as he realized there was more of a minor commotion happening today, rather than the usual disappointment that descended upon the sea of hopeful faces before him. Whispers were emerging from the crowd like an irritating buzz of insects in summer, and Nijimura stifled the urge to bark at them to shut up. It wouldn’t do to start scaring the brats just yet. Some of them might just wet their pants. 

But still, he wondered what all the whispering was about. He scanned, critically, the line of rapt faces in the first string group, trying to contain their excitement for being chosen as the top string in this prestigious club. Then he noticed four faces that were distinctly lacking the bursting excitement. They looked like they _knew_ they would be chosen. 

Instantly, Nijimura felt a stab of irritation. Was he going to have to beat the smugness out of kohai that thought they were all that? That was not how Teikou worked. Here, you _earned_ your respect. It was the way to be the strongest.

“Second string.” The announcement jolted Nijimura out of his fuming. His father flitted into his thoughts again, and Nijimura forgot all about the four brats with their distinctive-coloured hair. He would deal with them later. One by one. 

***

It was Akashi Seijurou who had first earned Nijimura’s grudging respect.

“Senpai, I have a suggestion.” 

Nijimura looked up from where he had been poring over passing routes, and frowned. “You’re not supposed to be in the clubroom, brat. What’s your name?”

Akashi only stepped in further into the clubroom, and approached closer to Nijimura. “Akashi Seijurou. I have a suggestion regarding the passing routes.”

Nijimura raised his eyebrows. The brat had nerve. He wasn’t even on the starting lineup.

He crossed his arms. “I’ll humour you, brat. What’s your suggestion?” His fingers were twitching, ready to flick the kid in the forehead if it was just some dumb way to impress, to stand out amongst all the other predators. 

Half an hour later, Nijimura thought he had identified his vice captain. After all, someone who could bring in concepts from things as diverse as Nijimura’s interests in karate and table tennis into basketball was definitely someone special. 

And there was the way he carried himself. That absolute certainty, and confidence, was befitting of Teikou. Nijimura could not help but believe in him. The brat was a winner, no doubt about it. The brat was strong, and he would survive.

Nijimura did not think he could get along with someone like Akashi Seijurou. The kid was too _perfect_. The perfect future captain, the perfect leader, the perfect basketball player. The perfect winner. Nijimura himself was still struggling with how to be a better captain. Nijimura himself was still struggling with how to uphold Teikou’s punishing philosophy, when he wondered sometimes about whether he truly believed in it.

But Akashi also knew how to perfectly get along with Nijimura .

“Let’s talk about basketball instead, senpai.” Akashi suggested, after Nijimura had thrown yet another game of shogi with a frustrated yell. Nijimura had snapped his gaze up to Akashi, and smiled satisfactorily.

“Now you’re talking about a _real_ game.”

Akashi knew how to be the perfect complement to Nijimura’s captaincy. So even when Teikou was not the buddy-buddy kind of club, Nijimura could feel the trust, and the faith, creep in.

He could believe in Akashi Seijurou. That in itself, gave a kind of strength that would ensure Teikou’s survival at the top.

***

“Nijimura-senpai, I’d like to have a word with you.” 

Nijimura yawned, then he blinked, and Midorima Shintarou came into view.

“What the hell are you doing here so early? Early morning training doesn’t start until six.” Nijimura himself regularly went an hour earlier just to set everything up. 

“I wanted to speak with you.”

Nijimura rolled his eyes. “Yes, you said that before. Spit it out.” He narrowed his eyes, giving Midorima a critical once-over. A kokeshi doll was nestled preciously in Midorima’s right hand, and Nijimura restrained the urge to roll his eyes again. 

The kid was just odd. He did things so properly, so decorously, holding himself up to a punishingly strict standard. Nijimura was all about casualness, and could not fathom having to live so harshly by rules and standards, by one’s own choice. He could not get the brat at all, which was probably why he was sometimes most worried about him, out of all the other troublesome kohai in Teikou’s first string. 

But Teikou was not a buddy-buddy kind of club. Nijimura had better things to worry about than whether one weird kid in his team could fit in. And the kid’s shots were so ruthlessly accurate there was no question of his oddities getting in the way of Teikou’s victory.

“I am concerned about today. Cancer is ranked last.” Midorima shifted awkwardly, and pushed his too-large glasses up on his face. “I could not find another kokeshi doll.” He avoided Nijimura’s gaze. 

Nijimura felt his eyebrow twitch in exasperation. He could not deal with this, especially so early in the morning. “I think one lucky item is good enough, Midorima. You don’t need two to make sure you’ll be fine for the day.”

He watched, puzzlement rising, as Midorima swallowed, still avoiding his gaze. 

“Senpai, I don’t think you should exert yourself today during practice.”

Nijimura frowned. “What the hell are you going on about? Just spit it out, damnit.” He really did not get this kid.

“I apologize for taking your time, senpai. I will go and practice some shots now.” Midorima had turned around and walked, too quickly, away. Nijimura just stared after him, wondering again why the hell he had to deal with all this so early in the morning. 

It was only when Nijimura left the clubroom to lead practice, when he nearly tripped over the kokeshi doll, left conspicuously by the door. Understanding shot through Nijimura’s head, bright and clear, and Nijimura remembered that he himself was a Cancer, too.

So as he walked into practice, he ignored the rows of yawning faces. Striding straight up to Midorima, Nijimura flicked him on the forehead.

“Take care about yourself before you worry about others, brat.” Midorima blinked, as the kokeshi doll was shoved into his hand. 

Then Nijimura brushed a hand over his head, and allowed the corners of his lips to curve upwards. “Thanks, though.”

He was starting to understand the kid, odd as he was. He was beginning to be a little less worried about whether Midorima would fit in. 

Somehow, he felt, the brat would be fine.  

***

It was the end of a typical school day, a week after the first string announcements. Nijimura was checking in all the basketball courts, making sure everything was in order, before he headed home for the day. He had thought it would be a quick, routine task, before he could return home early to help his mother, and do some chores.

Nijimura had already expected to find Aomine Daiki in one of them. After all, it was a regular occurrence, finding Aomine there, practicing basketball on his own every day after school. The kid really was _exhausting._ The brat just had too much _energy_. He loved basketball so much he vibrated with the zest to play with it almost constantly.

Then again, when he moved around the court so blindingly fast all that energy became fully justified.

Nijimura had _not_ expected, however, to open the gym door and find Aomine Daiki running and attempting to jump, then fall on his face spectacularly. Nijimura strode over to him. After a cursory glance to ensure the kid was not bleeding, he whacked him on the head, hard, to ensure the brat _did_ get some kind of injury as a lesson for his idiocy.

“What the hell kind of layup was that? Are you first string or not?” he demanded, pulling Aomine to stand up by his collar.

Aomine shuffled his feet, the lump on his head throbbing and his face red from both embarrassment and the fall. Then his big mouth kicked in, as it always did. 

“I wasn’t trying a layup!” He scowled. Then he mumbled some gibberish Nijimura could not parse.

Nijimura whacked him on the head, again.“Speak up! What were you trying to do then, besides being a dumbass?”

Aomine glared at him, defensiveness and shame all over the lines of his petulant expression. “I was trying to dunk!” The “like Lebron…” trailed behind like an ashamed puppy.

Nijimura just blinked at him. Then he could not help the twitching in his lips. Thirteen, and trying to dunk. It reminded him of a time when he himself had almost broken his nose trying to do the same thing. There was no way he was telling Aomine that, though. 

He tapped Aomine on the head, but gentler. The brat had a hard head, but maybe disciplining him too often would not do well for Teikou’s future prospects. 

“That’s not how you do a dunk, dumbass.” He went over to the ball, and picked it up. He turned to Aomine, and quirked a smile, wolfishly.

“What are you standing there for? Come on.” As Aomine bounded up to him, he flicked him in the forehead. Gently, or as gentle as Nijimura could be. Which is to say the red spot still bloomed bright and painful on Aomine’s forehead. “And wipe that stupid grin off your face.” 

An hour later, even though Nijimura got home slightly later than he had intended, he somehow felt he had spent his time the best way he could have.   

***

“Murasakibara, come out.”

Nijimura gritted his teeth in frustration as he restrained himself from kicking the door hard enough to break it open. He didn’t have the damn money to pay for any repairs to damaging school property. He turned to Akashi.

“What the hell is wrong with him?” 

Akashi sighed. “Someone took a packet of Pocky from his stash. He’s sulking, and refuses to play until he gets another one.”

Nijimura felt a vein throb in his forehead. “What kind of attitude is that for a Teikou first string player?”

He slammed on the door with his palm. “Murasakibara, open the door right now or I’ll make sure you don’t get _any_ snacks during practice, for the rest of the year.”

After a moment, where Nijimura spent the minutes clenching and unclenching his fists irritably, and Akashi continued noting training menus composedly into his clipboard, the door opened, grudgingly.

“I’m not going to play. I don’t feel like it.” Nijimura could see Murasakibara beside the door, slumped against the wall. 

Nijimura stepped in, dismissing Akashi cursorily to begin leading practice. After watching Akashi’s lips twitch with hidden amusement, Nijimura flicked him on the forehead for good measure, before sending him off. The brat derived too much entertainment watching Nijimura deal with his troublesome team.

Nijimura sat next to Murasakibara. He leaned his head back, and closed his eyes. “Murasakibara, tell me what Teikou’s philosophy is.”

Murasakibara was clutching a pack of umaibo, and was studiously ignoring Nijimura as he ate it. But Nijimura caught the mumbled “Only the strongest survive." 

Nijimura nodded. “That’s right. And do you think you’re being a strong basketball player, letting something like a packet of Pocky stop you from playing?”

Murasakibara did not answer, crunching his umaibo religiously. But Nijimura could see the lines in his body stiffen. With acceptance, and reluctant understanding of Nijimura’s words. But also with stubbornness.

Nijimura sighed. “Fine.” He stood up. “I’ll buy you a packet of Pocky to replace that one, alright?” 

He watched Murasakibara critically, restraining the urge to tap his foot impatiently as Murasakibara slouched up. 

“What if it happens again?” Petulance was still all over Murasakibara’s posture, as he continued crunching his umaibo. 

Nijimura’s eyebrow twitched. But he just bit out, “I’ll release an announcement that no one is allowed to touch your snacks.”

Murasakibara nodded, even as his attention was all on the umaibo. Nijimura reached out a hand, and flicked him in the forehead. Hard.

“But you owe me for this, brat. For both the packet of Pocky, and all this damn trouble you’re making me go through. Teikou is not the kind of club you can just demand what you want and get it.” 

Nijimura grabbed one of Murasakibara’s umaibo from the packet he was holding, and stomped out. The brat was smart, and did not stop Nijimura as he walked out, eating one of his umaibo. 

Of course, when Nijimura opened his locker the next day to find a flood of snacks pouring on him, it was all he could do not to whack Murasakibara, hard. Instead, he relieved some of his irritation by whacking Akashi upside the head as he noticed the brat smiling that hidden amused smile. Then, he declared an impromptu after-practice snacking session, lips twitching despite himself. 

Teikou was not a buddy-buddy kind of club, but he needed to get rid of all those snacks, somehow.

***

It was three days after Kuroko joined the first string practice that Nijimura noticed him planted on the floor, every time. Nijimura almost kicked himself, for not seeing it before. But the brat was so hard to notice, and Nijimura still felt the overwhelming doubt that he belonged with Teikou. Only the strongest survived, and Kuroko was far from the strongest. 

Nijimura threw a towel on Kuroko, lying face down on the gym floor. 

“Get up, Kuroko. Come with me.” He watched, doubt mounting, as Kuroko struggled to get up on shaking legs. 

Nijimura threw a Pocari at Kuroko as he walked towards the bleachers, by the side. His doubt subsided slightly as Kuroko caught it satisfactorily, even in his exhausted state. 

“I don’t need to be a doctor to see that you’re struggling during practice, brat.” Nijimura looked analytically at Kuroko from the side of his eyes. He watched Kuroko’s eyes widen in panic, and almost choke over the Pocari he was chugging as he made to protest. 

“Slow down, don’t choke yourself,” Nijimura whacked Kuroko on the back, rolling his eyes. “I’m not telling you to quit.”

I’m still watching to see if you’ll make it, Nijimura did not say, but as he watched Kuroko cough, trying to get his breathing even, he still wonders if the love for a game, even one as immense as Kuroko’s, is enough to make it. After all, Teikou was a jungle, and only predators survived.

“I’m fine, senpai,” Kuroko said it very quietly, but Nijimura was slightly thrown by the conviction in his eyes. He watched Kuroko watching Aomine, weaving through practice like he was born to do it, without a worry or care in the world, absent of the struggle of someone without that same natural strength in a game they both loved.

“I believe you, if you say so.” Nijimura continued watching Kuroko, thoughtfully. He reached out a hand, and flicked Kuroko on the forehead. “But don’t kill yourself.”

He clapped Kuroko on the shoulder. “Teikou isn’t a buddy-buddy kind of club, but we’re all working together stay at the top. Make sure you remember that.” Nijimura knew he would never be the type of captain to coddle and hold Kuroko’s hand through practice, but he hoped the brat understood that he was not going to just stand by and watch him struggle.

He still doubted Kuroko. After all, this was Teikou. There was a reason there was the first, second, and third strings. There was a reason their motto was what it was.

Despite that overwhelming doubt, however, Nijimura can’t help hoping the kid would make it through. There was something about him that made Nijimura believe he could be the strongest, in the end. There was something about him that made Nijimura believe he could survive, more than the rest of them.

***

The first time Haizaki misses practice, Nijimura grits his teeth and storms to his house early the next morning, dragging him out to make him do _triple_ of the usual morning laps.

The second time Haizaki comes to practice with a girl under his arm, Nijimura politely but firmly shows the girl out, then makes Haizaki do _quadruple_ of the usual training drills.

Haizaki was the kind of person that brought the worst out of Nijimura. Every time he heard of something Haizaki did, Nijimura felt anger burn hot through his veins. Then, the disgust with himself would seep in as well, as Nijimura gave in to his temper. 

Not that he didn’t feel the brat deserved it, of course. A player like him on Nijimura’s team gave Nijimura more trouble than he needed.

But, still. He was on Teikou’s team, because he was a predator like the rest of them. He might be more cruel, more mean-spirited, and more ruthless than the rest of them. But Teikou was the kind of club that didn’t really care whether you were nice or not. It cared about whether you could win. 

So Nijimura did his job as Teikou’s captain, to uphold Teikou’s continued victory.  Doing so however, sometimes made him feel sick to the stomach, even as Haizaki’s skills awed as usual on the court. 

Nijimura did not give Haizaki the forehead flicks, the head tapping, or any of the gestures he had begun to do with the rest of his kohai. Haizaki never seemed to want it, even if Nijimura sometimes felt he needed it. 

Even if Nijimura sometimes felt he needed more help than Nijimura had the time to give, and anybody at Teikou was willing to give.

***

Kise Ryouta was the kind of guy used to getting what he wanted, Nijimura could tell. The kind of guy Nijimura felt firmly needed regular reminders of the kind of attitude to have in basketball. Teikou’s basketball club was not a place to take for granted, once you got there. 

Thus, Nijimura found a grim satisfaction, watching him start working hard to deserve Teikou’s basketball. He saw it in the way Kise ran after Aomine, begging for more one-on-ones, to prove himself. He saw it in the way Kise babbled about Midorimachii’s amazing shots, Murasakibarachii’s defense and Akashichii’s perfect passes.

“Nijimurachii, you need to teach me how to beat Aominechii!” There was his regular daily plead to Nijimura, even as he received Nijimura’s regular daily whack on the head in response.

“What did you call me, brat?” Nijimura demanded. He was still trying to teach the brat respect.

Kise howled in pain. Then, “Senpai, you need to teach me how to beat Aominechii!”

Kise was a player, Nijimura realized, who did not care as much about winning for Teikou. He was a player who wanted to win for himself.

“When you can dribble properly without regularly turning to wink at your fangirls by the side, then I’ll teach you,” Nijimura ordered. His lips twitched as Kise immediately started the dribbling drills. The brat worked hard, even if his attitude still needed adjustment.

Nijimura had only been Kise’s captain for a short time. But even in that short time, he gave the kid more whacks than any of the rest combined. Kise was too _noisy_ , too exuberant. He was more exhausting than Aomine, and that was saying a lot. 

As Nijimura watched Kise finally, successfully copy his own powerful drive after only a few lessons, however, he flicked the brat on the forehead. He demanded the brat to go even faster than Nijimura himself could, and make the drive better than Nijimura’s own. 

Watching him do so, Nijimura began to finally believe he was ready to leave Teikou in Akashi’s hands. With players like Kise, there was no doubt Teikou was going to be the strongest. 

***

“Why are you crying?” Nijimura is shuffling uncomfortably as the words come out rougher, harsher, than intended. Damnit, he was really bad with girls.

“Because you’re leaving, senpai.” Momoi sniffs, and wipes at her eyes.

Nijimura wished he hadn’t bumped into her as he was making his last few rounds as captain, checking up on the locker rooms and clubrooms. But now, here they were.

“I’m still going to be in the club,” Nijimura cringed as it came out sounding demanding and incredulous. “I’m just going to be on the bench.”

Nijimura almost recoiled as Momoi buried her face in her hands and cried louder. “I know, but you won’t be my captain anymore.”

Nijimura reached out a hand, tentatively, and patted her on the shoulder. His hand felt heavy and clumsy. “Akashi will be captain, you’ll be fine.”

Momoi sniffled, starting to calm down as she took deep, gulping breaths. “You’ll always take care of us, won’t you, senpai?” She looked up at him, eyes teary and pleading. 

Nijimura swallowed the lump that suddenly formed in his throat. He thought about his father, in the hospital. His mother, working a job while trying to take care of his father. His two younger siblings, still asking him why their father still hadn’t come home from the hospital. 

Nijimura hadn’t the time to take care of anyone else but his family. And Teikou wasn’t that kind of club, after all. They only took care of each other to the extent that it ensured victory. There was no space for any more. 

“You can’t count on me forever.” _Damnit,_ Nijimura could never say the right thing. Momoi’s eyes started filling with tears again.

Before she could cry again, however, Nijimura flicked her on the forehead, gently. “I can count on _you_ to take care of those brats, though, can’t I?” 

He gave her a crooked smile, trying to be gentle and feeling thoroughly, distinctly, _not_ gentle. It seemed to work, however. Momoi had stopped sniffling, and she was smiling at him. Her smile was hopeful, brave, and full of faith.

“I’ll try my best, senpai. For you.”

Nijimura felt reassured, despite himself. Even if Teikou wasn’t that kind of club, he still felt better, having someone like Momoi to take care of it, of everyone. She was just as strong as any of the predators that existed in Teikou’s basketball club, after all.

After that encounter, Nijimura finished the last of his rounds. He slipped his jersey, the “No. 4” folded away, into the coach’s office. He checked through the basketball gyms through the last time, glancing at Aomine and Kise playing their one-on-one, Kuroko watching and commenting by the side. Midorima in another gym, practicing his shots. Murasakibara in the locker room, counting his snack stash. And Akashi in the clubroom, pored over a game of shogi. 

Only the strong survive. Nijimura was strong, but he didn’t think he was strong enough to continue being Teikou’s captain. He wasn’t strong enough to balance his family and the burden of winning, at the same time.

But those brats were strong. His kohai were strong. Perhaps Teikou would be alright, in the end. Perhaps his kohai would be alright, in the end.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments would be VERY lovely! =)


End file.
